"Yes, my child," Father Caleb said ponderously.
She couldn't help but smile a little. He was at least a decade younger than her — it felt a little strange to be confessing to him. But she pressed on a little, told him a little about her life as a doctor, the temptations of reckless ego and pride. It was odd, now that she thought about it, how much there was to say, how much to explore… and while she didn't exactly feel guilty about the personality flaws she was presenting, it was oddly satisfying to explain them all in detail, as though she was cleansing herself. She did catch herself using a little more medical jargon than necessary, though, and there was a definite vagueness to the way Father Caleb was responding. Well, fair enough. In a way, it was God she was talking to, not the priest. And surely God would understand what she was saying.
"But more recently… well, I suppose I should confess to the sin of — lust, I guess." A blush rose to her cheeks… it was very helpful that she couldn't see Father Caleb's face right now. "Um. I have indulged in sexual contact outside of marriage. With Connor Grant," she added, and she heard Father Caleb clear his throat hard. She could almost picture his face flushing furiously. Had he ever had any kind of experience with women, she wondered, a little amused despite herself.
"What is the nature of your relationship?" he managed to ask, and she could hear the timidity in his voice.
"Well. We've known each other for a little while… he's probably my closest friend here," she said thoughtfully, thinking of Connor as she spoke, imagining how he'd respond to these kinds of questions about their relationship. Did he do confession every week? Had he mentioned her to Father Caleb? "I like him," she said, feeling like a teenager.
"Ahem. Well. The Lord, as you well know, frowns on extramarital fornication," Father Caleb said severely. "So, if you are serious about this young man, and if this young man is serious about you… well, marriage is an obvious path to take. Before any further fornication transpires," he said sharply.
She nodded, realized he couldn't see her, then shook herself, grinning a little. That wasn't necessarily a promise she could make… but she wasn't going to say that, was she? The idea of marrying Connor… oddly enough, it didn't make her feel uncomfortable. Usually, commitment was a concept that either bored or worried her, but when it came to Connor… well, it was something to think about.
She confessed a few more things — most of them having to do with anger or frustration with the villagers for how they'd treated her. Father Caleb was rather diplomatic about those — she got the distinct sense that he felt she was justified in her anger, though he did solemnly advise her to be more Christlike in response to persecution — and then the confession was over. She recited the Hail Mary a few times as instructed, pleased that she remembered it as well as she did, and then she moved through to the manse beside the church, where the interview with Father Caleb and Captain Brendan was to take place.
That hadn't been so bad, had it? Now all she had to do was survive a conversation. Given the horror stories she'd heard about witch trials, Karen thought to herself, this one was going pretty well.
Chapter 44
Brendan was a burly, bear-like man with coppery hair and a beard — an intimidating figure in armor, but the smile on his face when he shook her hand was genuine and made her feel considerably more at ease. She recalled what Kay had told her about Brendan Grant the first time she'd met him — a cousin to Connor, and the Captain of the Watch up at the Keep. And he was married, more to the point, to a woman from her own time — Elena, an ex-cop from Baltimore. A good match, she thought with a smile… and reassuring to know that he'd at least understand where she was coming from.
Father Caleb joined them shortly — to her amusement, he was still a little pink in the face, clearly embarrassed by what she'd confessed to him in the booth. Was it really such an unusual state of affairs? From the gossip she'd heard around the village, premarital sex was hardly an unusual occurrence… maybe it was just Father Caleb who had trouble handling it. She fought the urge to smile, sitting up straight and proper as she looked at the two men sitting opposite her.
"So," Brendan said after introductions had been made. "I understand you're a witch."
Father Caleb clicked his tongue. "Captain Brendan —"
"Come on, Caleb, you know as well as I do that this is a farce," he said irritably. "She came into the church, and she did your little pageant… why do we have to pretend to interview her? You know as well as I do that she's about as far from a witch as she could be."
"The people of the village were worried," Caleb said stiffly. "It is my duty to serve them."
"Aye, sure," Brendan said irritably. "Karen, I do apologize for all of this. Sincerely. Similar tomfoolery was carried out when my Elena arrived, and I had as little patience for it then as I do now. Father Caleb, here's the only test worth a damn." The guard reached for his belt, drawing a long, black blade from a sheath there. It was about the length of her forearm and wickedly sharp, and she eyed it with some apprehension. Had she spoken too soon regarding barbaric witch-hunting rituals? Was he going to want blood from her?
"This is cold iron," he told her, shooting Caleb a disgruntled look as he spoke. "No creature from the Fae can stand to touch it. We use it to guard against them, to repel them, and to kill them. Any witch would sizzle and burn if they made contact with this blade. Do me a favor and touch it, will you?"
She nodded, reaching out to place the back of her hand against the cool metal surface of the blade. The two men looked at her hand, and she looked back at them, shrugging her shoulders. "Would it help if I wore an iron crucifix around my neck?" she suggested brightly, drawing a laugh from Brendan.
"Aye, perhaps, if we could convince the villagers to believe in the supernatural for more than five minutes," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I swear they alternate between demanding witch-hunts and refusing to acknowledge that there are real monsters about, depending entirely on what will most inconvenience us. I understand you're a woman of medicine, Karen?"
"Yes, that's right. A doctor."
"Brilliant. You're an asset to this place and we're lucky to have you. And we'll be twice as lucky if you have any interest in sharing your skills with us after the nonsense these town folk have put you through." He shook his head, rising to his feet and giving Caleb a look. "Is that enough of an interview? Have we sufficiently confirmed that this woman's about as much of a witch as you are?"
"I suppose so," Father Caleb said, clearly a little afraid of Brendan. The guard captain nodded, giving Karen a warm smile.
"Then we've taken up more than enough of your time, Karen. It was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing you again under less ridiculous circumstances. Father Caleb? Shall we make our announcement?"
The three of them headed out to the church yard together — where, Karen realized with a shock, it looked like more or less the entire village had gathered. Connor was there among the crowd, standing toward the front, an expression on his face that strongly suggested he was thinking about picking a fight if he needed to — he smiled and waved at her when he saw her, and she smiled back, her heart picking up as she remembered what Father Caleb had said about marriage…
"Thank you for coming," Father Caleb said, raising his voice to be heard. "I am pleased to report that upon thorough examination, Miss Karen Frakes is evidently not any kind of witch. She has taken communion and given a full confession, as any God-fearing woman would. Furthermore, Captain Brendan has thoroughly interviewed her and performed his own tests upon her, being something of an expert in the supernatural —"
"Aye, that's right," Brendan said roughly. "She's no witch, and anyone who thinks otherwise can take the matter up with the Watch."
With that, the crowd dispersed. Karen was pleased to see positive expressions on most of the faces, and a few villagers even came up to squeeze her hand and congratulate her on the result of the trial — she was pleased by their friendliness, but a little annoyed at the implica
tion that there had been any doubt that she'd pass the tests. Then they were gone, and Connor was at her side, smiling down at her.
"So, you're not a witch after all. How disappointing."
"Sorry," she said with a sad little shrug. "I suppose that's the end of us?"
"Well, I'm only attracted to witches. It's a firm rule, I'm afraid."
Laughing, they headed down the hill together, hand in hand. It felt good to have been absolved like that — and to her surprise, she felt oddly good about having made a confession. It felt good, to talk through the things that were troubling you… to reflect honestly on your life, on what you'd done, the ways you wished you could be better. And though the act of forgiveness from the priest had been symbolic, there was still something about the feeling of having a blank slate to start from that was… well, reassuring.
And it made her all the more determined to get to the bottom of what was happening with the Sluagh, once and for all. They returned to Connor's cottage — she was rapidly beginning to think of the little place as home — and had a quick lunch of bread and cheese, but she could tell he was itching to get out and start work. They'd agreed to visit with Mary — it was time to try to get some answers from the young woman, as awful as those answers may be.
Their lunch done, they headed out, and Karen found herself debating whether or not she should tell Connor about her theory regarding what was going on with Mary. Unless someone else in the village had been despairing when the Sluagh turned up — which didn't seem to be the case, having asked around — then it was likely that it was Mary who had summoned them. That meant that it was Mary who had sent them to attack someone else… specifically, men with cowpox, which earlier had been a description that only applied to the six men who'd died that first night. But what reason would Mary have for wanting those men dead? Karen worried that she knew… and that telling Connor would make him so angry at what had happened that he might interfere with the investigation. So, she kept the theory to herself as they rode.
One way or another, they were about to find out if she was right.
Chapter 45
It was an overcast day, cold and blustery, and she shivered a little, drawing her cloak tighter about her shoulders as the two of them approached Mary's little cottage. Her mother was in the front yard, weeding a garden bed — the woman straightened up with a tired smile, and Karen recognized her as having been among the women who'd come to fetch Rosemary from the hillside the night before. They greeted each other, and Karen asked after Rosemary, figuring that she was among the last people the woman would want to see right now. The news wasn't good.
"She's not speaking to anyone," Mary's mother said heavily, leaning on the fencepost outside the cottage as they discussed Rosemary. "We got her in from the hillside and got her dressed a little more warmly, then put her to bed… but she won't say a word. I can't imagine what she's going through," she said heavily, the reflected grief clear in her eyes. "Can't imagine how she's going to recover from this. We've organized to have someone with her every minute of the day going forward, just in case… well, the despair…"
"Good thinking," Karen said, shaking her head. She'd had psych placements before — being on suicide watch was rather a terrifying responsibility. Her determination to get to the bottom of what was going on flared all the brighter in her chest. She'd make sure nobody else had to suffer what poor Rosemary had suffered. "We were hoping to speak to Mary if that's alright? I've brought some more salve from Old Maggie for her lesions, and we thought a visit might lift her spirits."
But the woman shook her head, a dejected expression crossing her face. "You'll have Cameron to contend with, I'm afraid. He's come over very peculiar of late. Says he's got to protect her from something — won't let me or anyone else anywhere near her door. I think she's put him up to it, but I've no idea why."
Connor and Karen exchanged glances, both frowning. What possible reason could Cameron have for stopping people from visiting with his sister? The woman gestured them through as she returned to her work, and Karen let her, reasoning that she had more than enough on her plate for the time being. They'd go in and talk to Cameron.
Sure enough, there was the little boy, perched on the steps that led up to his sister's room. He was clutching a stout wooden branch he seemed to have gotten from outside somewhere — it showed some signs of having been inexpertly carved to a point and looked like a combination of a sword and a club. His expression was severe and determined when he looked up at them, but Karen could tell by the redness in his cheeks and the shine to his eyes that he'd been crying.
"Hullo, Cameron," Connor said with some surprise, dropping instinctively into a crouch to get on the little boy's level even as he got to his feet, his makeshift weapon ready. "Are you protecting your sister?"
"Aye," the boy said staunchly, lifting his chin. "I'm keeping her safe. Nobody's allowed up to see her, not anyone. Not the priest, or the village elders, or Mam, or even you!" He sounded equal parts determined and terrified.
Karen braced herself for Connor to push the child physically aside, or to just step around him. But to her surprise, he sat back on his haunches, giving the boy a smile.
"She's lucky to have a good protector like you, Cameron. You're a good, brave guard. I could use a few more men like you on the Watch, especially these days." Cameron looked surprised — and a little delighted by the praise, Karen noticed with a quiet smile. "Have you heard what's happening?"
"Yes," he said in a small voice. "Mam says there's monsters around and I mustn't go out after dark. And Da nailed the windows shut all along the west wall."
Karen and Connor exchanged glances — it was good to hear that their warnings were being taken seriously out here. She just hoped that every family was taking as much care as this one was. "Aye, monsters indeed," Connor said heavily. "Is it the monsters you're protecting Mary from?"
"Yes," Cameron said fiercely. "The monsters and the shadows and the bad men." He lifted the wooden club in his hand fiercely, as if to strike at some imagined enemy, and Karen made quiet note of the third thing on his list, resolving to ask Mary about it — if they ever got past her little bodyguard that was.
"Well, I tell you what. That weapon you've got there will do very well against the bad men," Connor said thoughtfully, reaching for his belt. "But I have something even better for monsters and shadows."
"You do?" Cameron had gone from defensive to curious, and Karen couldn't help but smile at how careful Connor was being with him. Validating his skills as a protector, offering him help… he was very good with children, it seemed. "What?"
"Cold iron," Connor explained, his eyes gleaming. "You know about faeries, right? I've seen that your parents hang up a horseshoe over the front door."
"To keep us safe from the Fair Folk, aye," the little boy said.
"Well, the reason for that is that it's made of iron. Iron's deadly to monsters from the Faerie world. Which is why I want you to have this knife." With that, Connor drew out a knife from his pocket — barely longer than a pocket knife, but definitely sharp enough to do some real damage. "Now, this is a serious weapon. Will you be careful with it, and treat it with respect?"
"Yes," Cameron whispered, his eyes enormous. Connor placed it hilt-first in the boy's outstretched palm, and he curled his fingers around it reverently.
"Now, I can give you a few lessons in how to fight with that, if you'd like," Connor suggested. "I often train with the men of the Watch — and seeing as you're keeping watch over your family, I think that includes you, too."
Cameron nodded; his eyes bright with excitement. But Karen could still see the worry on his face. "Can you teach me to fight six men at once?"
Connor tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "Aye, I can show you a few tricks. Why would you be fighting so many men yourself, though?"
"The bad men," Cameron said, sitting back down on the steps with an angry look on his little face. "They came last week, and I couldn't stop them."
"What bad men?" Connor asked, casual as anything, even though Karen knew as well as he did that this was a huge potential clue.
"There were six of them," he said, and there were tears in his eyes again. "I couldn't stop them. Mam was outside and she didn't see them, and I couldn't make them go away even though Mary was sick and hurt and didn't want to see anybody."
"That's okay, Cameron," Connor said softly. "Even grown-up Watchmen sometimes can't stop bad men from doing what they do."
He sniffled, squeezing the iron knife tight in his fist as he continued with Connor's encouragement. "I told them to go away but they wouldn't. They went up there and they all yelled at Mary, even though she was sick. They said… they said it was her fault, that she made them sick, that they were going to make her pay for it. Then they saw Da coming home along the path, and they all ran downstairs and away through the back door." He sniffed again, clearly distraught over this encounter, over his own powerlessness. Karen knew how he felt. "Then when I went to talk to Mary, she told me to go away. She was crying. And then that night, the storm came, and the wind kept screaming, and I could hear her yelling at it out of her window for ages. And now she won't talk to me, or Ma, or anyone at all."
Chapter 46
Karen and Connor stared at each other, and she could tell he was thinking as hard as she was about what had just been revealed. Cameron was still tearful, and Connor invited him outside to the garden so he could teach him the basics of knife fighting — something that seemed to intrigue him, though he hesitated a little at the prospect of leaving his perch at the bottom of the steps.
"Ah, a true guard, not wanting to leave his post," Connor said with a broad smile. "Tell you what — I'll put one of my best guards on to relieve you, alright? You know Karen. She's an expert in shadows and monsters."
Troubled By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 6) Page 18
